


Peeled Apart

by SloopOfWar



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, Identity Issues, Love Triangles, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Violence, Multiple Perspectives, On Hiatus, References to Depression, Sharing a Bed, Sleep Deprivation, Sleep Paralysis, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23083645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SloopOfWar/pseuds/SloopOfWar
Summary: Xemnas can’t convince himself to get a decent night’s sleep. Strung-out and exhausted, the facade starts to slip, and his carefully maintained remove from his colleagues comes down with it.Set during KH3.
Relationships: Ansem Seeker of Darkness | Xehanort's Heartless/Xemnas, Saïx/Xemnas (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

XEMNAS

He often found himself awake at night, sitting at the small desk in his room and reminiscing of a better time. A time when he was lord of a castle, floating high above a world entirely of his own creation. A time when his word had been law, his power uncontested. It had been an enjoyable ten years. Even the odd existential hiccup or botched mutiny couldn’t take away from his accomplishments. He built himself an empire, and ruled it with distinction.

But it was never long before his thoughts took a dark turn. An inevitable dark turn, considering what had befallen his Organisation. His castle was destroyed, the World That Never Was long slipped into slumber. He _died_ , effectively, at the hands of a mere boy. And when Xehanort swooped in and snatched Xemnas out of his short state of non-existence, he had next to nothing left. His name, if even that. Xehanort liked to call him _Nobody_ instead, just to remind him what he was really was.

He managed to wrangle back a few of the others. The more despondent ones, those who had little to return to on the other side of completion. Xehanort swooped in for them too, plucking them from Xemnas’s fingers without so much as a thank you. Worse, he was then relegated to little more than a glorified general, barking orders that weren’t his own at the same underlings he had governed independently for a decade.

_There is no place here for your pride_ , Xehanort had said to him, when Xemnas didn’t make it unobvious he was insulted by his demotion. _Leave it behind you where it belongs. Do not forget your true purpose, Nobody._

Oh, he could never forget. His true purpose was evident in the very way they lived. When Xemnas designed The Castle That Never Was, he went for brightly lit, clean metallic interiors. Ceilings that rose high above the head, and tall windows with incredible views of the night sky and the sparkling, neon city.

His new dwelling, however… Xemnas glanced around his room. It was small and dark. A low, uncomfortable mattress, a desk and a chair. A single dusty lamp in the corner.

Everything had a layer of grime on it, no matter how often it was cleaned. Even the people. The dust settled in their hair and on their clothes. Caked into the lines under their gold, unnatural eyes. Eyes that did not look at him with nearly the amount of respect they did before, when they had been all different shades of blues and greens. The airs of _the Superior_ had been thrown away for the trash they were, revealing the deception concealed beneath. That, and some uncomfortable truths he had let himself forget.

The truth that anything and everything that made him _Xemnas_ was inconsequential. His true purpose was to be used at Xehanort’s disposal; a sword arm, something more akin to a machine than a person. His body was this bastardised amalgamation of features that didn’t belong to him, and that spluttering little excuse for a heart taking root inside his chest wasn’t worth any more than a dirty weed crawling up between the rocks –

Xemnas looked up sharply from the report he wasn’t reading. His room was empty, but he had just felt a presence looming close.

Sitting back in his chair, he waited until he felt the outsider creep back into his head-space, and then promptly reached out with his mind and gave it a rough shove.

The presence stumbled and fell out of range. Xemnas sighed.

Ansem had a habit of doing this. Announcing his impending arrival through their little mind link before he actually made his appearance, as if to pre-warn Xemnas to put down whatever he was doing to give Ansem his full and rapt attention. It was very obnoxious. He returned to his report, just as a dark corridor opened and soft footfalls stepped into the room.

“What are you doing here?” Xemnas asked, by way of a greeting. “I thought I just made it clear that you are not welcome. Leave.”

A tut. “So hostile. Considering you’ve been keeping me up for hours with your incessant prattling, you owe me an apology.”

“Or you could just stay out of my head, where you are not wanted. Then we’re both winners.”

“Thanks, that’s great advice. If only I had thought of that myself.”

“You’re welcome,” said Xemnas, turning his page idly. He still didn’t look at him. “You can let me know how that worked out for you in the morning.” There was a creak of springs as Ansem sat down on his bed. Xemnas tensed. “I said in the morning, not now.”

“It is morning, technically… well, I don’t know, actually. Time doesn’t seem to pass normally in this place. I suspect it is any time between the hours of five in the evening and five in the morning.”

“It passes just fine if you keep yourself occupied,” said Xemnas. “Therein may lie the problem. I can assign you some janitorial duties if you are really at such a loss for something to do. It has been a long time since someone cleaned out the shower drains, for example.”

“No, thank you. I’m tracking down our dear departed old master.”

“Oh?” Xemnas finally deigned to look at him. Ansem was leaning back on his elbows with his long legs open, entirely relaxed despite Xemnas's less than welcoming reception. “And your enquiries led you here? Did you think you might find him hidden under my coat?”

Ansem's lip curled, the expression coming so easily to his face one would think he had been born with it. “I haven’t actually checked under your coat yet. Mind if I do? We should slip the whole lot off, actually, just to make sure.”

“Must you be so disgusting?” Another adjustment he had to make in this lifetime was the advent of Ansem. Confronting the sight of someone so physically alike to himself was disorienting enough without being made to work with them, but that was what Xehanort insisted. The two of them were once ‘one’, so by that logic, they should work better as a team. The senile idiot hadn’t, however, accounted for the time and distance which had passed between former heart and body, and the personalities that had grown in the absence of each other.

Ansem, as it turned out, was vulgar and overbearing. He was used to working alone, didn’t like being told to what to do. Xemnas liked to boss people about. They argued, a lot, but always out of earshot of the others. After all, they had appearances to keep up for the sake of morale.

While Ansem’s personality left a lot to be desired, his physical presence was something different. Strangely, after the initial shock wore off, Xemnas adjusted to a 'closeness' between them right away which just came naturally, when he had so rarely been comfortable with casual intimacy with anyone else. In fact, he didn’t even realise the liberties he was taking with the man’s personal space at first. They’d be sitting at meals, and Xemnas would have an arm braced on Ansem’s chair, or be sitting so close their thighs were touching. Ansem, likewise, had no qualms about resting a hand on Xemnas’s shoulder as they walked together, or at the low of his back. It was as natural as if he were putting his hands on himself, which, considering their bodies were once one and the same…

It wasn’t until they started getting strange looks from the others that Xemnas realised how it might’ve appeared. He was conscious of maintaining a reasonable and respectful distance between them at all times now.

Ansem, however, was under no such obligation. “I’m just saying. It seems the perfect way to get re-acquainted. It also seems a waste to let something so fine just hang there between your legs-"

He always had to take it too far. “Ansem, leave before I am forced to physically remove you.”

“First, you have to promise to be quiet. I can’t spend another night listening to you ramble on about how sorry you feel for yourself. And don’t pretend I have any way of blocking you out. You’re deafening. You may as well be standing right beside me, shouting in my ear.”

“Funny how I can’t hear you unless I make a conscious effort to,” said Xemnas coolly. “Or unless you intrude in on my thoughts, as you like to do.”

“What’s funny is how lacking in self-awareness you are.” Ansem tilted his head to the side. “You don’t hear me because I’m perfectly in control of my own mind. You are not. You’re fraying at the edges. Relax. It is very unbecoming.”

“I cannot relax with you in my room. Once you leave, I will be much calmer.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll lie there and fret about every little thing that has ever happened in the history of existence. You’ll get an hour or two of sleep at the most. I know your pattern by now.”

No one would have dared speak to him like this in his Organisation. Not even the most disobedient; number VIII or number XI for example. They knew to hold their tongue in his presence lest he rip it straight out of their mouths with gloved fingers. Ansem, however, did not fear him one iota. “What is your worldly advice then? You, the expert on insomnia.”

He knew what was coming before Ansem even opened his mouth. “Direct that energy elsewhere. I can think of a few ways that don’t even require you to leave the bedroom.”

Predictable, ridiculous creature. “You already know my answer is no,” said Xemnas, keeping his tone light. He wasn't frightened of Ansem, but he didn't particularly want to get into a fight with him either. Not when he was this exhausted. "Now. Let that be the end of it."

Ansem seemed amused. He clicked his tongue. “Care to tell me why?”

"What part of 'let that be the end of it' did you not understand?"

"Humour me."

Xemnas raised an eyebrow. “Because it’s ridiculous. I’m not attracted to you.”

“Yes, you are.”

Delivered boldly and with no trace of uncertainty. It was almost laughable. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, please. I can’t count the number of times you’ve sat so close to me you were almost in my lap.” Ansem flopped back on the bed, tired half-lidded eyes staring up at the ceiling, while Xemnas pondered the consequences of beating him into a bloody pulp. “Then Xigbar or someone made fun of you, and now you’re too self conscious to admit what you want. Why is that, because we could pass as brothers?" He shrugged one shoulder. "Because they think it's strange? Why defer to their arbitrary standards and expectations? They are insects compared to us.”

Xemnas made to rebuke that, but Ansem had more bile to spit up. “I know you jerk off all the time. You could have more. Remember, we're two halves of the one whole. You cannot lie to me. Think of it as an abstract form of masturbation, if that'll make you less embarrassed–”

“No, thank you,” said Xemnas. It was too late for this nonsense and he could feel irritation piercing through to his very bones. “Now, leave. I won’t tell you again.”

“I will, for now.” Ansem sat up again. “Seriously, if not with me, take that whore of yours for a spin or something. I’m fed up losing sleep over your constant whining.”

A roar of a corridor and he was gone, leaving Xemnas even more on edge than before. Eyeing the crumpled sheet where he had been lying, Xemnas had to acknowledge that there was some truth in what Ansem was saying. He was unsettled. He couldn’t rest until he had eased out some of the pressure, like water sluiced out of a reservoir. The difference was, he could find other ways of doing it that didn’t involve debasing himself and unnecessarily complicating their working relationship.

And as for his ‘whore’… well, the less said about that, the better.

He got to his feet and went for a walk.

Their castle was quiet at this hour. With half of the Organisation off to spread calamity through worlds, there wasn’t much hubbub during the day either. But now, at night, it was almost deathly still. The air in the graveyard was so strange. The thud of Xemnas’s boot-steps seemed to only travel a short distance before the sound was swallowed up into nothing. It didn’t do much to ease his disquiet, so he eventually lifted himself up and levitated along silently like a ghost, his toes just trailing the floor.

Back in the Never Was, he’d find himself on Altar’s Naught most nights, staring up for hours at the colossal heart-shaped moon in the sky. Mesmerised by the artificiality of its beauty and splendour, revelling under the pressure of all that power simmering in the night air. Here, however, when he made it up to the tallest turret of their castle, there was nothing but rock and sand as far as the eye could see.

That, and Xigbar perched on the highest ledge like an overgrown gargoyle.

Xemnas watched him in the absence of anything else noteworthy. His one good eye gleamed slightly under the light of the small, insignificant moon of this world. He was watching the horizon, though Xemnas could not tell if he was necessarily searching for something. Contemplating, maybe. It was rare to see his face free of its usual disparaging smirk.

“What are you looking for?”

“MOTHERFUCK-!” Xigbar nearly fell off his ledge. He summoned his arrow-guns instinctively and Xemnas deflected them out of his hands with a flick of his wrist. One of the weapons tumbled down the roof and out of sight.

Xigbar started to laugh, his hand pressed over his chest. “Shit, Xemnas! You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“You should be on your guard.” Xemnas floated in and landed on the ledge beside him. “Especially on the exterior of the castle. There are more dangerous foes than heartless hiding amongst these rocks.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

Xigbar moved over to give him room to sit, but Xemnas remained standing. He had the inexplicable sensation that he was being watched, but when he looked out over that vast, empty expanse of land, he couldn’t see anything.

“Something old,” he said eventually, though it wasn’t quite what he meant. The longer he stood out here, the more he felt peeled apart. Like invisible hands were burrowing into his chest and slowly drawing out his innards, unspooling them like slimy ribbons. Gods, this place was dire. No wonder he couldn’t sleep.

“Old, huh.” Xigbar hummed to himself. “Older than the old coot himself.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Just needed some air. It’s fucking stuffy as hell in my room and Dem snores like a pig.”

Xemnas’s lips thinned momentarily, before he could slip his usual hollow expression back in place. Xigbar grinned at him.

“Ah come on, boss, aren’t you happy for us? Our relationship survived death and reincarnation. Fuck, we even trawled up to this shit-heap together and we’re still going steady. Most couples pack it in over far less. Did you know Marluxia and Larxene didn’t talk to each other for a whole month because he stole some chips off her plate in a restaurant–”

Xemnas stopped listening. His mind would start straying into dangerous territory if he didn’t.

“Your private life is of no concern to me, as long as it doesn’t affect your performance." He turned away. "I am returning indoors.”

“Alrighty,” said Xigbar. “I’ll come back in too, in a sec.” He got to his feet and brushed himself down, dislodging a cloud of dust from his coat.

Xemnas opened a corridor back into his room, and was about to step through it when Xigbar added, “So, hey. You get talking to Saïx much recently?”

Dangerous territory it was, then. Xigbar was too nosy for his own good. He was just as bad as Ansem, barging in uninvited and waving his entitlement around like a flag. Their insistent focus on such selfish, trivial matters was a waste of time, considering their higher calling to Xehanort's cause was so near. Xemnas gave him a sharp look over his shoulder. “I do, indeed. Regularly. Good night, Xigbar.”

“Not what I meant and you know it!” Xigbar shouted through the corridor. “I mean talk as in _talk_ –”

The darkness closed behind him and cut Xigbar off abruptly. Xemnas unzipped his coat and pulled off his boots, eyes lowered thoughtfully. He had nothing to talk as in _talk_ to Saïx about. The decision had been made to keep their exchanges as professional and uninvolved as possible. Strictly Organisation business and nothing more. That way, it wouldn’t compromise his judgement. He had... _suffered_ the Luna Diviner’s death once already. He wouldn’t allow himself get into the position to pseudo-care about it this time around. And he suspected Xehanort would not allow it either.

A memory flashed out of nowhere. Saïx, crawling onto the end of his bed in his old room in the Never Was, smiling at him coyly through wayward strands of long blue hair. Xemnas shook the image out of his head. Gods, he couldn’t think straight. His eyelids were a ton weight. That pathetic mattress almost looked inviting for once.

He pulled the scratchy comforter over the top of his head and stared blearily at the dark fabric until the morning dragged in, and Xehanort’s summons pulled him down to the concourse area in front of the castle. Planned for today was a reconnaissance mission on an unexplored swathe of the graveyard.

Ansem shot him a disgruntled look. His eyes were bloodshot and ringed with shadows. Xemnas didn’t want to know sort of a picture he was presenting right now. He specifically avoided his reflection in the mirror when he went to splash cold water on his face. Xehanort either didn’t notice the state of them, or didn’t care to comment on it as he sent them off.

The next night, Xemnas got no sleep. Nor the night after that.

On the third, his body finally capitulated to exhaustion. But halfway through the night, he woke up with an immense pressure on his chest. And he couldn’t move a muscle.


	2. Chapter 2

ANSEM

While the days often dragged, in their little dust-ridden hideaway, the nights were not much better. Retiring to his bed tired and despondent usually preceded fits of tossing and turning, limbs tangled in sheets and eyes stinging in their sockets as he chased sleep that would not come. Even when the dark eventually claimed him, he almost certainly predicted being disturbed awake by colours and sounds travelling down that little transcendent connection with his other half. Tonight was no different, though the tone of this interruption was certainly new. Ansem jolted upright in bed with a sharp intake of breath, a hand pressed over his heart.

Summoned instinctively by his disquiet, the dark figure flexed powerful black claws and crouched over its master protectively, its vast presence filling half the room. Ansem’s eyes darted around every corner. Something had just been on top of him, must have scurried off into the shadows. It couldn’t have gotten far, he could still feel it, somehow; crushing his ribs and squeezing the air out of his lungs – 

Then his brain quickly caught up with the rush of adrenaline, and he put the dark figure to ease with a raised hand. With clarity of thought came the recognition of the familiar bleed of Xemnas’s consciousness into his head-space. 

Only this time, it wasn’t the low drone of his voice, bitching about his apparently endless pit of misfortune. It was just dread. Pure, unfiltered dread, gripping him like a cruel fist clenching his heart between cold, sharp fingers. Ansem tried to ignore it the best he could as he pulled back his blankets and got out of bed. He double-checked the room just to make sure, but he was right. There wasn’t so much as a speck of dust out of place, nor was there any indication of anything more untoward than usual in the castle. What was Xemnas playing at?

Ansem was only wearing a pair of trunks and the floor was freezing under his bare feet; but he didn’t pause to dress before he opened a corridor into Xemnas’s room. He didn’t care about propriety, and Xemnas only pretended to. 

The first thing he saw as he emerged into the room, before his toes even touched the floor, were the Dusks. Half a dozen of them, jumping to and fro around the bed, called to Xemnas’s distress like Ansem’s guardian was to his. Though, stupid little things they were, to comprehend the source or fathom a solution was well beyond their capabilities. 

Determined to prove the point, the second they registered Ansem’s presence, they rounded on him as if _he_ were the threat. Lowering their heads, they hurtled through the air towards him like a mass of grey snakes. The dark figure knocked them aside easily, and Ansem got a clear view of Xemnas lying flat on his back on the bed, motionless, his eyes shut, before another wave of Dusks materialised in their place. 

Ansem’s eyebrows went up. Oh, he was sleeping, for once? All this fuss, because Xemnas was having a _nightmare?_ Absurd. 

Though at this point, it wasn’t unlike what he had come to expect. Xemnas was such a brat, such a monumentally dramatic, self-obsessed creature, Ansem could hardly believe they used to be the same person. Xemnas renowned himself in the old Organisation as a dullard whose non-stop pontificating bored his underlings to tears, Ansem had heard them discussing it snidely behind his back plenty of times. At least they all had the liberty to walk away once it was done and get a minute’s peace. Ansem, however, was intrinsically wired to Xemnas. There was no escaping it; not unless they were worlds away from each other, or, during the few hours of the day when Xemnas managed to get some sleep. And even now that he was asleep, it was coming worse than ever –

Ansem paused. Now, there was some food for thought. He prodded against that unnerved energy consuming Xemnas’s mind, testing for any signs of waking. Within, something small and pale tremored, gravitating towards him. It glowed brighter as it drew closer, a little spark of Xemnas’s waking consciousness seeking Ansem out and anchoring itself to him for security. The Dusks lulled to his presence in response; dropping the deliberate aggression out of their posture. Ansem felt confidence enough to take a few steps forward. When they didn’t lash out, he swatted one out of the way so he could stand beside the bed and give Xemnas a closer look over.

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

There was sweat beading on Xemnas’s forehead, glistening on his neck. His eyelids creaked open, pupils shrinking to tiny dots, pinpricks of black in a sea of gold. 

Ansem raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you hear me? What’s going on inside your head? Your Dusks just attacked me. Should I retaliate in kind?”

Xemnas made a small sound in the back of his throat. His hands were curled on top of the sheets. A finger twitched. Ansem reached out and gave Xemnas’s shoulder a shake. When all he got in response was another twitch, he slapped him across the face. 

Another little sound. No sign of the physical kickback such an action should have warranted. Fascinating. He slapped him again, just for the sake of it, watching his cheek blossom red. 

Xemnas, inexplicably, appeared to be locked inside his own body, trapped between states of consciousness. If not, he’d undoubtedly be in the process of slamming Ansem’s head against the wall. His eyes were fixed on him, narrowed to slits, his lips pulling back but no sound coming forth. A picture of indignant fury, frozen in place.

“Oh, I was just testing the waters. Don’t be mad at me." No more slapping, then. Ansem took one of Xemnas’s wrists and waved his hand about, feeling how cold and clammy his skin was. “Do you want my assistance? I’m only asking because you knocked back the offer before.” He laughed as Xemnas’s eyes narrowed even further. “No, idiot, not _that_ kind of assistance. I have some other ideas of how to get you out of this, though they aren't nearly as fun. Aren't you glad it was me who found you in such a vulnerable position, and not someone who might take advantage of your fine self?” 

Said he, who was notorious for such a thing. If Xemnas noted the irony, he didn’t show it. Not that he could have managed it, anyway.

The Dusks finally made themselves scarce. Ansem got rid of the dark figure and waited, trying not to shift his weight impatiently. His toes were numb against the freezing floor. Xemnas inhaled through his nose and then nodded his head a fraction. There was a little bit of life ebbing back into his unresponsive limbs. Evidently, he had arrived to the same conclusion Ansem had, that their proximity to each other was slowly reversing his dislocation from his body. Like Ansem was the warmth thawing out the ice, the heart pumping blood back through his cold, colourless flesh. At the very least, this little exercise might teach Xemnas a lesson about their nature he had been trying to deny, might loosen that huge stick he had jammed up his ass. And at the most, well… 

Ansem pulled back Xemnas’s blankets, dislodging his hands to flop down at his sides. Underneath, Xemnas was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a loose fitting t-shirt. Far more sleep clothes than Ansem would ever wear to bed. Pity. His weight dipped the mattress as he slid one knee forward and swung his other leg over Xemnas to straddle the man’s waist. Settling back comfortably on his lap, he took Xemnas’s limp hands and rested one on his thigh. He held the other flat against his bare chest.

“Feel that?” He pressed it against the thud of his own heartbeat. “Focus on it. Breathe.”

The heat of Ansem's body seeped into his. After a few minutes, Xemnas was able to spread his fingers. The span of his hand was huge. His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he turned his head, stretching his neck. Sweat smeared on his pillow, sticking strands of silvery hair to his face. 

Ansem smoothed away a bit of hair that got stuck in Xemnas's eyes. “That’s right.” As far as he was concerned, they were in no rush. He was enjoying having another body pressed against his, feeling the muscles contract beneath him as Xemnas tried to sit up. It had been a while. “Just focus on me and keep breathing. You’re starting to come out of it.”

Eventually, Xemnas’s other hand made its way up Ansem’s thigh to grasp his hip. He slowly drew up his knees, the change in posture tilting Ansem forward. Between their bodies, the impact of their closeness was making itself evident. Ansem was buzzing all over. Xemnas had refused even the most perfunctory of physical contact for some time now; to have him this close, after being held at a distance for so long, was exhilarating. Especially considering at the start, they had sought each other out instinctively, without really thinking about it. Being yanked to and fro out of his natural timeline at Xehanort’s whim had worn him down to the bone, but intimate proximity to the half of him which had long been severed counted as a definite ‘perk’ to the whole proceedings. Then even that was snatched away from him before he could really take their relationship to each other to its natural conclusion. 

Xemnas was half of Ansem; peeled off, cast aside and remade in the likeness of something whole. But that emptiness at his core would always be there, and it would always Ansem’s to crawl inside and pulse through with blood. He should have just taken the plunge right away. A good, hard fucking on day one might’ve suppressed weeks worth of Xemnas’s bitching and grumbling. It might’ve knocked his fixation on that blue-haired slut of his. Why Xemnas would waste his potential jacking off alone in bed, fantasising about something so mediocre, when he’d probably have queues of people lining up to fuck him–

"I've heard enough of that,” rasped Xemnas. He had finally managed to sit up, looping an arm around Ansem’s waist for stability. He took a deep breath, puffing air against Ansem’s collarbone. Goosebumps burst out all over his neck. “How... unpleasant.”

“Yes, the truth can be very unpleasant sometimes. Perhaps you should consider why you’re so hung up on someone who won’t have you now you’re no longer in power–” 

“I’m talking about the… that.” Not usually so in-eloquent, Xemnas frowned. “Paralysis between the state of sleeping and waking. Have you ever experienced anything like that?”

“Not personally. I imagine you’d be better asking Riku. Or Terra, what’s left of him anyway.” He didn’t want to talk right now. He slid a little closer, pressing the swell of his arousal against Xemnas’s stomach. His other didn’t even seem to notice.

“Evidence of possession?” he murmured to himself. He moved, rolling them over so he could dump Ansem on the mattress like a sack of potatoes. Then he was on his feet, getting further away. Ansem sat up, watching Xemnas stand unsteadily and flex his joints. Though the air was suddenly very cold, the places where Xemnas touched him burned. His eyes dropped to his own chest, half expecting to find that big handprint branded onto his skin. There was a slight trace of perspiration there, nothing more.

“I came across some literature about a similar phenomenon when researching the heartless,” Xemnas said, staring down at his hands. “Demons that crawled in during the night and burrow into a man’s chest. He would only be able to lie there, frozen, and endure it. In some cultures, it was interpreted as the visit of a malevolent spirit. A deceased loved one or comrade, someone you may have wronged, or with whom there was unresolved conflict at the time of death...” He was droning on again.

Ansem stopped listening. His patience was wearing thin, and quickly. It was one thing for Xemnas to turn him down when he was only lightly suggesting the idea. It was another to outright reject him when he was sprawled aroused and nearly naked on Xemnas’s bed like some kind of offering. 

“Fascinating,” he said, when Xemnas finally shut up. “Why don’t you come back to bed?”

Xemnas looked at him with swollen, bloodshot eyes. There was a short pause. “Did nothing I said to you the other night sink in?”

“I know to take everything you say to me with a copious pinch of salt.”

“I meant every word I said.”

Ansem resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They had already been over this. “No, you didn’t. You were just projecting. It might work for the others, but I told you already, it doesn’t work with me.”

“Do not pretend you know me better than I know myself.”

“I know you better than anyone else,” said Ansem. “Certainly enough to know that you are consumed by doubt and fear. So much so, that you have no idea of figuring out what it is you really want. It's not pleasant to be around and that's a shame. You are so pleasing otherwise.”

A raised eyebrow. “Doubt _and_ fear?”

“Fear and doubt,” Ansem reiterated idly. His eyes searched the other for signs of the open hostility he wore the last time they spoke, but it wasn't there. He just looked tired. Like he just wanted to get this conversation over with so he could crawl back under his blankets and sleep for a week. Perfect. Perhaps he'd be a little less resisting this time.

Xemnas sighed, sounding very much like their fore-bearer. He even teetered a little where he stood, like he were as old as the man himself and not unalike a god bound in human form. Then, so dully it was if he was reciting from the most boring manual on earth, “I am not capable of feeling such emotion–”

“Oh, fuck off, Xemnas. Let me put it to you this way, and correct me if I’m wrong. You have no sense of yourself. You know all that _Superior_ carry on was just a bunch of posturing for the better part of ten years. That’s been taken from you, but you’re still clinging to its coattails and pretending that’s who you really are. Because otherwise, you have to confront the fact that you are a complete and utter fraud who has no idea who he is or what he’s doing.”

Another pause, where Xemnas just stared at him. Ansem was starting to think he had maybe pushed too far, but then Xemnas said, “And your educated opinion is that I want you. That’s very convenient, considering you have been sniffing about after me since we first reconvened here. I don’t see how that would help alleviate any of the problems you just so arbitrarily assigned to me.”

“You want an escape,” said Ansem. “Probably.” He shrugged one shoulder, trying to ease the tension a little. It was just _sex_. Trust Xemnas to carry on like the very act would change the outcome of their lives for ever, like the world would go up in flames the second he got his dick out. 

That answer seemed to mollify him. Or, perhaps more likely, he was unable to ignore the effect being pressed against him was having on his body. "An escape?" He tilted his head, gaze sliding over Ansem a couple of times. It lingering on his long, bare legs, the narrow slant of his waist, before settling on his face. He pursed his lips. An eternity seemed to pass, and then - 

“Once,” he said, eventually, holding up one finger. “Once.”

“Splendid.” About time.

His heart started to beat a little faster as he watched Xemnas undo the drawstring of his sweatpants. But before he had time to anticipate the reveal of his incredible body, Xemnas came round the side of the bed and took hold of Ansem’s hips. Next thing, he was promptly flipped over onto his front and his trunks pulled down to his ankles.

Ansem froze, alarm bells going off inside his head. He had never been on the receiving end of this. He tried to roll back round but Xemnas’s fingers dug in, holding him in place.

“You will take it like this or you will have nothing.”

Had he been a sliver less turned on, this is where he would’ve blasted Xemnas through the roof for even daring it. But he's finally getting what he was after, no matter the application, so he just spread his thighs and lowered himself to the bed like a cat.

“By all means,” he declared, with far more confidence than he really felt. There was some rustling behind him, and then Xemnas pressed a slick finger inside. He determinedly didn’t flinch, but the sensation was far from comfortable. A second was added, those thick digits stretched him in scissoring motions, before they began fucking him. 

Ansem grit his teeth; he has done this to other men before, but to give and to take were absolutely incomparable. He let his hips move back and forth with the motions, the friction of the sheets against his cock parsing out some of the discomfort. He glanced over his shoulder at one point, his breath catching at the sight of Xemnas’s erection jutting out over the waistband of his pants. Maybe the anticipation of penetration was affecting him, because his cock just looked monstrous. Long and thick, foreskin retracted, dark tip gleaming. Well, this fingering was waste of time – he’d be better shoving his whole fist up there to give him an idea of what was coming.

“Relax,” said Xemnas. His tone of voice hadn’t changed from that expressionless monotone, even with his fingers inside Ansem, peeling away his dignity and flinging it aside like trash.

“What?” Ansem's brain was somewhere around his knees.

“You are too tense. If you do not relax, this will hurt.” 

Ansem started to laugh. “I think I can manage. Hurry up and fuck me already. All this dawdling about, no wonder you never got anything done in ten fucking years–”

He hissed as Xemnas pulled out his fingers abruptly.

“As you wish,” said Xemnas, sounding bored. Ansem heard foil crinkling. He made a face. Never having bothered with the things himself, he wondered what the implication was here. The latex made an unpleasant squishing sound as Xemnas angled himself, and then pushed his way in all at once, splitting him in two.

It was very, very difficult not to lash out. He strained his thighs open to ease some of the pressure, and turned his face into his shoulder, wanting nothing more than to shred the bedsheets with his teeth as he tried to adjust to the intrusion. He didn’t get the chance anyway, as Xemnas pulled out and shoved back in immediately, and a hard, pitiless pace was set. He made next to no sound as he fucked him, but Ansem couldn’t help but vocalise in small, short grunts. He cursed himself for unwillingly clenching every time he felt Xemnas draw back, probably doing wonders for Xemnas’s pleasure, but nothing for his own comfort. That cock just felt bigger and more brutish with each thrust. Maybe he was being punished for those slaps.

Suddenly, Xemnas sighed and slowed to a stop. Ansem was thinking he had just came, until Xemnas said, “If you are this uncomfortable, why would you not just say something?”

“Uncomfortable? What gives you the impression?” He scoffed, as if this was all going as he had planned. “Did you expect me to be moaning and squealing like that little–”

“You cannot lie to me either,” Xemnas interrupted. He didn’t need to slide a hand between Ansem’s legs to find him soft and vulnerable there, undoubtedly Ansem’s mental feedback was letting him know loud and clear, but he did it anyway. Ansem flinched away, but as they were still conjoined ass to dick, he couldn’t avoid his touch entirely. “I told you it would hurt. If you want me to be gentler with you, just say so.”

Ansem's face burned so hot, he was glad they’re weren’t facing each other. In all the times he had imagined fucking his other half, he hadn’t imagined he would be made to feel awkward about it. But then again, he had never slept with someone who was, for all intents and purposes, his equal. He was used to dominating his lovers, men that were always both smaller and younger than him. Pressing in from all sides and smothering them, like a black tidal wave crashing against some helpless thing upon the shore. He has never got on his hands and knees like a bitch and relinquished that control to a behemoth like Xemnas. Someone whose power could snap his spine in two and crush the fractured pieces into dust.

He was still grasping for something witty to say, when Xemnas added, “This is the only time I’m giving this to you. So you may as well enjoy it.”

It was quite the declaration, like he was bestowing some precious gift on someone undeserving of it. Ansem was quick to hone in on that. “Look, give up on him already. Your slut is holding a candle for someone else.”

Xemnas grew still. “What was that?”

“You’re talking as if you have other options.” Ansem scoffed. “You wouldn’t be going to bed alone every night if that avenue was open to you. He wants that redhead. The scrawny one, trying to be a hero. It’s as clear as the day, Xemnas. Did they have a falling out back in your old Organisation? Did he come crawling to your bed afterwards, in desperate loneliness and heartbreak? Maybe you took a fancy to him and he had no option to refuse. You were his superior, after all.”

His free hand left Ansem's hips and fisted in his hair, shoving his face roughly against the mattress. “Do not speak of things you do not understand.”

“I was just joking before but if you really want, I can pretend to be him,” he said, muffled against the sheets. “Should be easy. I just have to remove every little trace of personality I have, and drop a simpering little ‘sir’ in between every other word.” 

“Enough, Ansem.”

“Honestly, I don’t get it.” Ansem was quick to return to a stiff, aching state in Xemnas’s hand, at least when he didn’t feel like he was being coddled. It was only then Xemnas’s hips started to move again, at a slower and softer pace. “I’ve never clapped eyes on such a boring, uninspired specimen–”

“I said, enough,” said Xemnas coolly. “If all you can do right now is spit your poison, I will not hesitate to throw you out of this room, whatever state you are in–”

“Right.” Ansem turned his head to the side, wayward strands of hair sticking to his eyes. He took a deep breath. That heavy drag against his insides was starting to unravel his sanity. Another deep breath, and then he couldn’t stop the small moan spilling free. Xemnas hummed in response. He shifted his position slightly so he was pressing right up against that most sensitive part of him. The quiet in the room was broken only by the slap of skin on skin, and Ansem’s increasing inability to keep his vocalisations to himself. All his muscles were tensing, that pleasure coiling deep within his pelvis a tell-tale sign that was he was fast approaching orgasm.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, drooling a little on the bedsheets. “ _Fuck._ ”

Xemnas grip tightened in that fistful of his hair and pulled his head up and back so far it bordered on painful. Ansem was anchored taut as a bow against him; spine curved, his neck exposed, mouth open and gasping in air noisily. He had never let himself get so… _unmade_ before, in midst of the act. Xemnas, just fucking all the insolence out of him.

“I’m.. I'm going to..” he grunted, his voice rough. Xemnas growled, fucking into him harder and harder. The bed frame was banging against the wall, the springs squeaking obnoxiously. Between that and the sounds Ansem was making, he wouldn't like anyone to wander past Xemnas’s door right now. The pressure was almost unbearable in its intensity. He was right on the edge, his body straining with the angle he was bent at, trapped between the two fronts of stimulation. 

When he came, he did so with such force he almost fell to bits. Xemnas followed him into climax, his low grunt barely audible over Ansem’s own drawn out moan. It tapered into a disgruntled ‘ _ack!_ ’ as Xemnas’s weight suddenly dropped on top of him, forcing him flat into the mess he had just made over the sheets. 

“If you don’t mind,” Ansem started. His normal, deep voice sounded weird to him after all that hollering he had just been doing, even when it was this weak and breathless. He tried to suck some air into his lungs. “I can’t breathe under your immense bulk, Nobody.” Xemnas was very heavy. So broad and muscular, where Ansem was slim and light. It was the main distinguishing feature between them, asides from the texture of their hair. Where Ansem's was pin straight, slicked back off his face, Xemnas's was shaggy and fell in a veil to frame his features. Ansem could feel it now, tickling his shoulder. He shivered, even though he was stifling under the crushing weight and heat of Xemnas's body.

Xemnas mumbled something indecipherable into the sweaty skin on the back of his neck. 

“ _What?_ ” No response. He tried again. “What was that? Speak up.”

Xemnas sighed and rolled off onto his back beside him, pulling off the soiled condom with a snap. Ansem watched him drop it absently over the side of the bed. His eyes weren’t even open. His breathing deepened, mouth going slack, apparently making an instantaneous transition from sex to sleep. He didn’t even pull up his sweat pants. 

“Don’t lie on your back,” Ansem told him, but he was dead to the world. Shrugging, Ansem scooted over the stained sheets to lie close to Xemnas’s side, pulling up the blanket to throw over the two of them. Xemnas would probably be pissed he overstayed his welcome, but he could deal with that in the morning. For now, he was owed his reprieve, and his rest.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The fallout, as it turned out, wasn’t on the cards after all. Ansem awoke to find Xemnas still fast asleep, apparently catching up on all the hours he had been missing out on the last few nights. Ansem slipped carefully from beneath the covers and found his boxers on the floor. It was a shame he actually had work to do, for once. He wouldn’t have minded spending the morning in bed, or half the day even. Especially now that Xemnas was ‘available’, for lack of a better word. He looked over the other man, the long exposed line of his throat, and clicked his tongue. 

A real shame.

He opened a dark corridor back to his room to dress, scraping off the semen dried on his stomach with blunt nails rather than go for a shower. Such slobbishness was not befitting a potential audience with his venerable former master, but god knows what sort of state that old fool would be in himself after so long in hiding. Ansem pictured a rotting red cloak, brown teeth, nails caked in filth and boots held together with bits of rope. All that proud solemnity beaten back into mournful shame.

Besides, he'd be lying if he really cared about the job Xehanort had given him, or whether the old man was alive or dead. Mildly curious, perhaps. He was more keen for a change of pace and scenery than anything else. Anything that wasn't just... waiting around for the end. 

He smoothed his hair into some kind of array, before opening a corridor to take him to Twilight Town.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little note before this chapter - I tidied up the first two chapters a considerable bit just to fix some characterisation/dialogue issues. Nothing has changed story wise but hopefully the prose flows a little better.

SAÏX

Saïx stared down at the slab. The blank face of the replica stared back up, eyeless. A vessel waiting for the implantation of a soul. That, and the little sliver of Xehanort’s heart that would override and shine through, gold and gleaming. 

“How long until they are ready?” he asked. 

At the other side of the room, Vexen was pretending to peruse some data on his computer. The two of them might be partners in sabotage, but they were certainly not friends. The shadow of Castle Oblivion still darkened the space between them; Saïx's own involvement in Axel's treachery pretty much laid bare on the table. Though Vexen might've been prepared to overlook it for now, he was not the forgiving type. Ironic, really, considering he was angling for his own absolution on the back of all the monstrous experiments he had carried out over the years.

Saïx was used to the hypocrisy. At least _he_ didn't expect Axel to welcome him back with open arms at the end of all of this. Odds were he would die and Axel would never know what Saïx risked to ensure he had his little friends returned to him, the very same friends he had abandoned Saïx for in the first place.

Life was too funny sometimes. For what little of Axel’s affection he had enjoyed in the last ten years, for all his heartbreak, for all the broken promises Axel left in his wake, Saïx's heart still held strong for the early life they shared together. It was the only reason he could bear it. Standing there, holding back the bile hurtling up his throat at the sight of this empty little assortment of limbs fastened together inside a black leather coat.

“How long?” Saïx repeated, when Vexen continued to act like he hadn’t heard Saïx speak. How long would he have, before he had to endure the sight of _it_ scurrying around the castle like a filthy rat.

Vexen finally looked at him. The familiar vivid emerald of his eyes was gone, yielded entirely to gold. “Perhaps one week. Perhaps two. Perhaps fifty. One thing is for certain, I cannot progress any further while you stand there and badger me.”

“Xemnas will be so pleased to hear you’re cooperating with his enquiries.”

Vexen sighed. “Fine. Tell him the first should be operational within a week.”

“The first?” 

“I should have compiled enough data to recompose my Riku Replica by then.”

“And Number XIV?” His stomach roiled. He hated to refer to it as even that: the implication that it had ever truly belonged amongst their ranks. But the longer he could go without saying its true name, the better. All he could think of was the sound of that name on Axel's tongue, soft and affectionate, only for his tone of voice to turn brusque with barely concealed animosity the second he turned to Saïx. It was like being slapped across the face and then backhanded. Like being driven over by a car and then it backing up over him to ensure maximum suffering.

Vexen let out another long, exasperated sigh. “I cannot make an assumption on that until I have consulted my data on the outcome of the Riku Replica. Honestly, VII. One would think you had never worked a day in a laboratory before–”

Was there no such thing as a straight answer with these clowns? Saïx was suddenly jealous Axel once had the pleasure of killing this man. 

“Within a week. I shall pass that along immediately.” Saïx turned and walked out, before he could summon his claymore and bring it down on everything in sight. That replica, especially.

Xigbar was loitering in the hallway. Saïx couldn't see him, but he could sense his presence somewhere up in the corner of the ceiling. Not in the mood to have his nerves grated on ever further, Saïx ignored him. It was only when he was up a floor or two above Vexen's laboratory, did he realise Xigbar was actually following him in a way he undoubtedly thought was discreet. Saïx halted in his tracks and raised his eyes skywards. 

"What do you want?"

"Whoops. I'm rumbled." Xigbar dropped from the ceiling and landed gracefully on his feet at Saïx's side.

As usual, he smelled like clove oil and metal polish. It transported Saïx back to the The Castle That Never Was, to the Round Room meetings where they were assembled together for long enough to get a sense of each other's quirks. Xigbar was always seated to Saïx's right, his hair shiny with the oil he used to slick it into its usual ponytail. Axel was on Saïx's left, smelling like cheap deodorant and burnt plastic. Sometimes he would get the occasional whiff of the others - traces of whiskey and cigarettes from Xaldin, overwhelming aromas of rose and peppermint from Marluxia.

The only scent he never caught was that of the Superior. It was like the air around him was completely still. Dead, even. He wanted to ask Zexion about it, seeing as it was his field of expertise, but he hated Zexion and then he had him killed. So that was that.

"Was spying on Vexen not enough for you?" Saïx asked. "Now you have to stalk me through the hallways?"

Xigbar's hand landed over his heart in mock offence. "You wound me, Blue Buns. As if I would ever think to eavesdrop on any of you. Why, that would imply some of us might have something to hide!"

"Stop messing around," said Saïx. "What do you want?"

"Bossman's looking you."

"I was just on my way up to see him. I have some information to relay from Vexen." Saïx turned away. "If that's all."

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Hold on, hold on. Bring him a coffee or something, would ya?"

Saïx wasn't sure he heard that right. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, I'm sure he'd appreciate it." When Saïx raised his eyebrows in question, he hummed. "Come on, Blue. You were there yesterday, weren't you? At breakfast?"

Saïx looked around quickly to make sure they were alone. He had been there. He'd witnessed what had happened. That was precisely why he knew the two of them shouldn't be talking about it openly in the middle of the corridor.

"I think you'd agree that stimulants are probably the last thing he needs," he said shortly, his voice low.

Xigbar snorted. "Fine. Bring him a tea. Bring him an orange juice. Bring him a fruit scone or something, I don't know. It might help. The dude is seriously frazzled."

Astounded by his audacity, Saïx pulled out of Xigbar's grasp. "Why are you coming to me about this? As far as I'm concerned, if you have time to crawl about on the ceiling all day, then _you_ can be the one to play the role of the doting servant."

"Hey, no one said anything about servants. He clearly enjoys your company a lot more than mine. Seriously. You've been getting in there for years, whereas I made one pass at him back in Radiant Garden and he nearly tore my arm out of its socket."

Oh, so _that_ was what this was about. He didn't even feign surprise that Xigbar knew. All the old Organisation knew, with the exception of the children, the extraordinarily stupid, and... well, Axel, apparently. He'd never said anything to Saïx about it, but he suspected Axel was fully aware and just pretended he wasn't. Anything to avoid confronting any uncomfortable truths about his darling, virginal Isa. Saïx rolled his eyes.

"It's not my problem. Besides, I haven't been in his favour for a long time. I believe the person you should be talking to is Ansem? The two of them are inseparable."

Xigbar made a face. "I said he was frazzled, I didn't say he was desperate. Fuck, can you imagine? Literally fucking _yourself?_ Yikes."

Well, that was true. He couldn't see Xemnas stooping to such levels of degeneracy, but Saïx wasn't willing to discuss it any further. "Enough. Word travels in this castle. If Xemnas or Ansem hear what you've been saying, or Master Xehanort for that matter-"

"Xemnas is completely out of it and Ansem isn't even here right now. He's tinkering around the Realm of Darkness, probably skinning a small child or something." Xigbar straightened his patch idly. "Ah well, was worth a shot. But think about what I said. You should be making the most of these next few days, Saïx. Your time is running out."

"As is yours."

"Aye." With a grin, Xigbar vanished down a dark corridor, leaving Saïx alone with thoughts that drifted back to the aforementioned breakfast incident.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew Xemnas had been troubled as of late. The prideful Superior who looked down on them from atop his throne didn't seem to be entirely present in this world, and what little of him was there just looked strung out and exhausted; seconds away from passing out on his feet, or losing his temper and chopping someone’s arm off. The edge of mania made him look more like Xehanort, more like Ansem. As if Xemnas was becoming less of himself with every passing day and more like them, slowly succumbing back into the consciousness that had born him.

Technically, that was the fate that awaited all of them should Sora fail, but Saïx wouldn't be surprised if it turned out the process was ahead of itself a few steps with Xemnas and Ansem. They were rarely seen without each other, as if they were conjoined at the hip. It was all a little bit creepy. Especially since Ansem had taken to leering at Saïx any time they saw each other like he was privy to some nasty inside joke about him. Secretly, Saïx worried Xemnas may have indulged Ansem with some details about their relationship in the old Organisation, and that Ansem might have come to the conclusion Saïx was easy pickings.

He was keeping his distance from the pair of them, anyway. He had barely spoken more than a handful of words to Xemnas, so perhaps that was why the true extent of Xemnas’s agitation wasn’t made apparent to Saïx until yesterday morning.

Saïx had been cooking himself eggs on the hob, not really paying much attention to his surroundings. He didn’t even hear what was said, only knew that a command had passed from Xemnas to Marluxia, to which Marluxia replied, “I didn’t know you were still in a position to give us orders.”

In response, Xemnas had grabbed hold of Marluxia by a handful of dusky pink hair and slammed his head face first onto the kitchen counter.

Porcelain had shattered. Demyx had screamed. Marluxia's nose broke, and Xemnas turned calmly back to the coffee machine as if nothing had happened. Saïx burnt his omelette and had to make a new one, watching silently as Marluxia struggled to his feet and stumbled out with blood dripping down his face and onto the lovely kitchen floor.

Xemnas was not a man who needed coddling, he was a man who should be feared. Worming up to his side with a little glass of orange juice would probably just offend him, and then _Saïx_ would likely be the one having his face rearranged on the nearest solid surface.

Resolving never to take Xigbar's advice ever, Saïx went to find Xemnas to deliver the progress report on the replicas.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Xemnas's eyes were cold, even in the soft amber light of the fire. He was sitting on a sofa in the communal room, a pile of reports on the seat beside him. As Saïx spoke, his mouth thinned. "Xigbar relayed this information to me five minutes ago."

Silently cursing the gunman to hell and back, Saïx bowed his head. "I see. I apologise. I have disturbed your work for nothing."

“Not at all." One of the files was open in his lap, not annotated once even though he had a pen in hand seemingly for that purpose. "I suppose there is no point in you wasting the journey.” He waved a hand. “Sit.”

He couldn't refuse. Resigned, Saïx lowered himself into the seat opposite and folded his hands in his lap. Xemnas watched him for a few long moments, head tilted slightly. He looked terrible. Eyes sunken, his complexion pallid, all the sharp angles of his bones casting shadows across his face. Saïx tried to find some sympathy for him in the recesses of his heart, but this was the man that lied to him for ten years. Kept lying, right to his face, even as he took Saïx into his bed and claimed parts of him that he once hoped to save for his wedding night. Back when he still held on to such silly ideas of love and romance.

“So,” said Xemnas finally. He closed the report and set it to the side. “Talk.”

Saïx blinked. “Talk, Superior?”

“Yes. Talk." His eyes slid up in the barest suggestion of an eye roll. "Talk as in talk.”

Saïx couldn’t tell if he was joking. “What would you like me to talk about, sir?”

“Whatever you prefer.” Xemnas propped his elbow on the arm on his chair and leaned his head in his hand. “I find the opportunity for decent conversation has been lacking of late. No one is prepared to listen in this forsaken castle, and I am tired of being talked at by people who believe they know me better than I know myself.”

When Saïx did not immediately respond to that, he seemed to grow impatient. “Saïx, if we could proceed.”

Saïx’s mind was blank. What the hell was he supposed to say? He couldn’t think of anything. Since they reconvened in this miserable timeline, he and Xemnas’s interactions had been relegated to operational purposes only. The idea of diverting from that even slightly had him worrying he might betray himself spectacularly. Like he’d open his mouth and an admittance of his treachery might fly out unbidden like a bat out of hell.

“Why don’t you start by asking me a question?” he asked, deciding it was best to let Xemnas lead.

Xemnas’s head tilted a little more, the light of the fire glimmering along his silvery hair. “As you wish. Tell me, Saïx. Do you think back fondly on the old days? The time you spent in The Castle That Never Was?”

“Yes. It was my home for ten years, after all.” It was only a small lie, to start off with. He certainly didn’t think fondly on how the Castle made him feel empty inside, all that grey metal and dead space. Nor did he miss feeling the strain on his and Axel’s friendship grow heavier with every passing day. “I haven't quite settled here. I miss having a view over the city from my bedroom. I miss the bright lights and all the open space.”

“As opposed to this, you mean.” Xemnas gestured over the dark little room they were sitting in. The firelight cast a flickering glow over the ceiling, making it look like it was creeping lower than it already was. A box slowly flattening underfoot, crumpling everything inside like paper.

“Yes, sir.”

"Well," said Xemnas. "I am glad the architecture was appreciated, if nothing else."

Saïx kept his expression neutral. Surely Xemnas did not expect him to start gushing about the good old days when they both knew it was all a lie. How enthused could he really be for memories of exhausting daily missions and mountains of paperwork? Everyone stabbing each other in the back? All the lying and scheming and fucking that went on throughout the ten years they managed to make it last?

Thankfully, he didn't press the point. Maybe Saïx's omission was answer enough. 

“Tell me about the house you grew up in," Xemnas said. "Your childhood home.”

He had absolutely no intention in divulging anything of the sort, not if he could avoid it. “I believe for the sake of fairness, it is my turn to ask you a question, sir.”

“Indeed. Go ahead.”

Saïx repeated Xemnas's question back to him.

Xemnas drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. A tiny outward expression of irritation. “You know I hold no memory of childhood or adolescence. Mine own, Terra's or Xehanort's.”

No, he hadn’t known. Saïx thought that was just another lie, and reasonably so. Amnesia. Such a lazy, convenient excuse to avoid having to answer any questions about his previous life. In fact, it was so lazy, Saïx had been kicking himself for not realising the obvious deception in the first place. Now Xemnas had the gall to tell him it was actually true? It was a constant battle trying to keep tabs on what was genuine and what was not. It was easier just to assume it was all false.

“My apologies, sir, I am tired. Of course I knew that.” Changing the subject quickly, he added, “You’ve never sought me out solely for the sake of conversation before.”

"Does that make you uncomfortable?"

“No,” he lied.

Xemnas's sharp gaze was relentless. “Are you sure?”

Saïx’s did his very best not to fidget. “I am just tired, as I’ve said. And I have little experience in being pleasant company.”

“You are too harsh on yourself. I have many memories of you being exactly that.” And apparently he was determined to prove himself daft. The only reason Xemnas ever got Saïx to relax enough for mindless small talk, was because all formality had been chucked aside somewhere around the same time Xemnas pulled all of Saïx's clothes off and chucked them on his bedroom floor. There were only so many airs Saïx could cling to after he had spread his legs for this man and presented himself for fucking.

Feeling his face burn, Saïx said, “The circumstances were a little different, sir.”

Xemnas raised his eyebrows. “I see. Well, if there are certain preconditions that must be met before I can get you to cooperate, then I am game. Let us make our way up to your bedroom, at once.”

Saix choked on air. Wait, _what?_

"I, sir - that's surely - I don't think -" He was so shocked, he could barely speak. Xemnas couldn't be _serious_. Did Xigbar put this idea into his head or something? How the hell was he going to get out of this -

Xemnas’s laugh rang out like a bell, and Saïx blushed even deeper. "Superior..."

“Forgive me, Saïx." He grinned. "I am just teasing you.”

He continued to snicker to himself as he watched Saïx gather his composure. Saïx tried to be offended, but the sound of that laugh was like a spell had been cast. He forgot the way it would crinkle the corners of Xemnas’s eyes in a way that was just so effortlessly charming. This was how the man managed to seduce him in the first place – by showing Saïx a little part of himself that he hid from the others. It was like catching a fleeting glimpse of the stars through a cloudy night sky.

“You are very cruel, sir,” said Saïx, finally allowing himself a small smile.

"It was worth it to put that expression on your face." Xemnas leaned back in his seat. "It has been too long since I last saw you smiling. I must admit, it is a sight I have sorely missed."

His eyes lidded. He looked like he was about to fall asleep right there and then. Saïx watched curiously for a few moments, wondering whether that was his cue to go and leave him in peace. Now that the tension between them had eased somewhat, he found he didn't really want to.

"Sir?" he asked quietly. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

One gold eye crept back open. "Yes, I would. I would like tea."

Saïx went down to the kitchen and rifled around the cupboards for the small, stainless steel teapot. He found a bag of dried chamomile flowers, probably Marluxia's, and set about brewing them over the stove. His pulse was beating a little faster. What was he doing?

He should have just made his excuses and left, and now he was hanging around to make Xemnas tea? Was he really that desperate for company that he let himself be bewitched so easily by an unexpected compliment and a familiar smile, from someone he knew could not be trusted?

_Yes_.

God, he missed a time when life was simple. When his feelings weren't such a muddy puddle of colours all bleeding in to each other. He wrapped the teapot handle in a cloth and fetched a cup, ignoring a leftover speck of blood staining the wall above the counter. He made it two steps out the door before he hurried back for a second cup.

Xemnas was right where Saïx had left him. He didn't look up as Saïx approached. Saïx set the tea pot and cups carefully on the table, and then leaned in for a closer look. Xemnas's head was tipped back slightly, eyes closed, breathing deep and steady. There was no response to Saïx's call, or the hand he waved in front of his face. He was asleep.

Taking his seat quietly, Saïx poured himself a cup of tea and drank it too hot, in small scalding sips. Something was stripped back when you saw a person sleeping. Xemnas looked very young, almost innocent. Back when they were intimate in the old Organisation, Saïx had never loitered after the sex was over. He would put on his clothes, make chatter so it wasn’t awkward and then leave. Xemnas would go back to whatever he was working on, and that was that. There was no post-coital tenderness. Xemnas never tucked an arm around Saïx’s waist and asked him to stay the night. Perhaps it was his way of maintaining his standing, that bridge between a Superior and his subordinate, a metaphorical distance in the aftermath of being so physically close.

Well, the distance wasn’t there now. Saïx watched a little strand of silver hair puff against his lips with every inhale and exhale. Maybe he was the only person to ever see Xemnas like this. Xemnas had never been a young child. He never had a mother or father to tuck him into bed at night, and he had never taken a serious long-term lover to wake up beside him in the morning.

If that were his lot, Saïx was sure the loneliness would cripple him. At least he had memories of a home and family and friends to anchor him to his sanity, even if he _had_ managed to fuck it all to the four winds.

Suddenly moved by pity, Saïx heard himself starting to speak.

"We lived in an end terrace on the outskirts of Radiant Garden. There was a small garden out the back where my mother grew herbs. She only worked part-time, so she was able to dedicate herself to her hobbies. The house always smelled like thyme and rosemary. She used to hang bunches of them on the walls beside all these taped up drawings. Some were hers, some were mine. The whole house was like this empty canvas to her. She decorated it like some kind of witch's hut. It drove my father mad, but he was never really home anyway. 

"One time, he took me to the hairdressers behind her back because he thought my hair was too long. The next day, she shaved all her hair off and hung the ponytail on the mantelpiece. He let me wear my hair the way I wanted after that, but she kept shaving hers anyway."

He looked down at his cup, the traces of chamomile flower floating in the dregs of his tea like the little clippings of his mother's hair in the bathroom sink. He hadn't seen her since Isa died at sixteen. He never went back to visit her, never wrote to let her know there was a part of son still alive. If Xehanort emerged triumphant at the end of this war, his mother would die once Radiant Garden fell to darkness. Perhaps she didn't escape the first time it was lost and she had been dead for years. The thought of it was always in the back of his mind, curled up and quivering like something small and fragile sleeping its way through winter. He had to keep it there in permanent hibernation. That, or he might start falling apart at the seams.

When he looked up, Xemnas was awake again and watching him. Saïx quickly lowered his eyes and poured him a cup of tea.

"It should still be hot,” he said, passing it across the table. “If it isn’t, let me know and I can go down to the kitchen to get a fresh pot of hot water. Or if you prefer a different flavour of tea, I can find you something else –”

Xemnas took the cup from him. "I am sure it is perfect, Saïx. Thank you." Then, "You are free to go."

Oh. So he was being dismissed after all. Trying not to look too stung, Saïx finished off the last lukewarm sip of his tea and got to his feet. "Yes, sir."

He didn't let himself hesitate in the doorway, leaving Xemnas alone in that room with the soft smell of firewood and the little pot of flowers on the table in front of him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, didn't expect to it take this long, but I've finally got another chapter of this ready. Hope you enjoy reading and let me know what you think in the comments!

XEMNAS

He dreamed he was back in his World That Never Was, only something about it was different.

He’d swapped out his heavy leather coat for the comfort of wools and cottons, and his hands were wrinkled and spotted. A gold band glinted on his third finger. He was having tea in front of a warm, crackling fireplace with Saïx, whose long blue hair was now cropped short and grey. In the dream he was still strong enough to pick Saïx up and carry to him to bed, where he lay him across the sheets and kissed him all over. His mouth, lined with age. His scar, faded to white. His arms and his stomach, the swell between his legs and lower…

When he woke, it was with a pit in his stomach. Sometimes, he preferred to wake up frozen like a statue than be reminded of what he could have had in life, were he anyone other than himself.

There was no going back to that world. He knew that. Just as there was no future and no growing old, not when his part to play in Xehanort's conquest came with an expiry date stamped into his very marrow. With their final assault drawing ever nearer, it was foolish, even dangerous, to let himself fantasise about things that could only ever come to pass should Xehanort fail. No matter the sly underhand dealings of his past and how unhappy he was with his present, Xemnas was no turncoat.

He started keeping a bottle of something on his bedside table, in the hopes a double or two might ease him through the night. He'd wake with the cloying aftertaste of whiskey clinging to his tongue and the fog of an encroaching hangover, but more often than not the visions, the torment and the insomnia came all the same. The only decent sleep he'd had lately came after the night he spent with Ansem - and with the Heartless still away, he tensed up at the very thought of getting into bed alone. There just wasn't enough time left to faff around consulting a sleep therapist, though he definitely could be doing with one. He was getting irritable. Clumsy. That undignified incident with Marluxia would no doubt come back to haunt him, and he'd not even noticed an errant, hungry Neoshadow sneak up behind him in the graveyard until it had swung for the side of his head. One of his molars shattered on impact and had been giving him trouble since, not that was he going to tell anyone. He didn't want to look weak as well as unstable.

The funny thing was, had all of this happened at any other point in his life, the scientist in him would have jumped at the opportunity to produce his magnifying glass. Put himself under the lens for inspection and ask _why_. Why this, why that. What did it all mean.

But he was just too tired.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

His room stretched infinitely beyond the foot of his bed, like a corridor into the abyss. The far end was thronged in shadows.

Inexplicably, he knew there was someone or something down there, even though he barely see through the gloom. He could _feel_ it. Feel eyes staring at him intently from the cover of darkness.

His forefinger twitched against the bedspread. It was the only movement he could manage. He had tried to get up, tried to shout, but his body felt as heavy as stone. His arms and legs may as well have been that of a mannequin, completely unresponsive. The shadows stirred and something slithered out of its dark surroundings, growing larger as it came up the corridor towards him -

A hand gripped his elbow suddenly and he jolted, snapping back to the present. The wind whipped his hair and the din of city traffic roared into his ears like a train flying by. He was standing on the edge of a glass skyscraper in San Fransokyo and Luxord was staring at him, his eyes so unfamiliar and gold against the cloudless blue sky.

"My apologies," said Luxord. "I was concerned you were feeling a little light-headed. Evidently I was mistaken." Still, he didn't let go until Xemnas had taken a few steps back from the edge. "Imagine taking a tumble from this height. I'd say there wouldn't be much left to send home to one's dear old mother, would there?"

Xemnas glanced down at the street so far below them, the tiny dots of colour scurrying to and fro on the grey pavement. He'd been holding a pen and a clipboard. He must have dropped them.

"Indeed," he said, rubbing the side of his jaw where his broken tooth throbbed in pain. "There wouldn't."

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The shadow didn't always have a face. Most nights it came, it would simply float down that long corridor of darkness and stare at him from the end of the bed. The figure of a man, empty and expressionless. A blank slate, like one of his replicas gone rogue. 

Other times - usually the times he was so troubled he was downing nearly half the bottle before sliding under his sheets - it would come crawling up onto the bed and he might see a mouth full of broken, bleeding teeth inches from his own face. Exposed, pulsing nerves. He thought he might even see eyes staring down, cut into that dark mask like gold slits, and he was struck by the notion it could be his own face. Maybe he was haunting himself. Or maybe it was Ansem haunting him, but the clawed hands that dug into chest were cold and sharp where Ansem's touch had been so warm.

No one ever came to ease him out of the paralysis like he had. By the time Xemnas pulled himself out, gasping and covered in sweat, the only comfort at hand was the party of Dusks wriggling about uselessly at the side of his bed. He'd dismiss them, shower off the unpleasantness, and then get back to work. There was nothing else for it. 

One day, however, the lights flashed on and Xigbar came strolling into his room uninvited. The spectre vanished off the bed, as if it had simply been a mirage.

"Hey boss man, the old coot said you weren't responding to his summons..." 

His voice trailed off. He took in the scene - the anxious congregation of Dusks, Xemnas's prone body lying there on the bed. His eyebrows shot up so high, Xemnas could see the red ring from where the patch dug in over his missing eye.

"Woah," he said. "What the hell's going on here?"

Xemnas would not resign himself to the humiliation that would come if Xigbar realised he was paralysed from fear. Nor would he give Xigbar the time or inclination to call in the others for a second opinion on what might be wrong with him. Scraping together all the energy he could muster, he forced himself to roll sideways and swing his legs off the bed. 

Unfortunately, he didn't quite manifest the smooth and graceful dismount he'd hoped for. In fact, he only managed to flop over and fall off the mattress, smacking his head against the bedside table on the way down and landing unceremoniously on two of his Dusks.

" _Woah!"_ Xigbar shooed the Dusks away and took hold of his shoulders, hoisting his dead weight upright. Xemnas found himself propped against the side of the bed like a plank of wood, his legs sprawled out in front of him. It didn't help that Xigbar's hands were now roaming up his neck, pressing into his pulse. Cupping his face and leaning in far closer than Xemnas would ever allow in normal circumstances. "Do you need to go to med bay or something?"

His whiskey tumbler rolled off the bedside table and smashed on the floor beside them.

"Oh." Xigbar was suddenly grinning. "I see."

The change in position was helping. Xemnas pushed Xigbar's hands away and rolled a kink out of his neck. "What are you doing here?"

"Don't want to freak you out or anything but you're gonna need to sober up tout suite. Xehanort's calling an urgent meeting."

"Ansem has returned." His senses were sharpening, for the better and the worse. There was an unpleasant metallic tang on his tongue. He ignored Xigbar's offer of a hand up and rose to his feet with his last few scraps of dignity. Ansem's presence was coming into form on the periphery of his mind - Xemnas wished he'd come straight to him instead of Xehanort, but the idea was so ridiculous he was embarrassed for even thinking it at all.

"Aye, and not with the best news, or so I've heard." Xigbar shoved a bit of broken glass away with the toe of his boot. "Watch your feet."

He dressed quickly and brushed his teeth, spitting bloody saliva into the sink. Another piece of his tooth must have splintered off when he hit his head. Feeling like he'd aged a decade in the space of an hour, he and Xigbar took a dark corridor to where Xehanort was waiting, with Ansem and his younger self.

Sweeping an eye over Xehanort's body language, there didn't appear to be any cause for immediate alarm. The old man was seated, resting his head with one elbow propped up on the arm of the chair. But where his child counterpart wore all his emotions on his sleeve, it was hard to know what the elder was thinking until it was too late. Xemnas bowed his head in apology.

"Please excuse my lateness," he said. He didn't offer an explanation, because Xehanort wouldn't want to hear it.

“Now that the stragglers have arrived.” Xehanort nodded at Ansem. “Bring us up to speed.”

Ansem looked dusty and travel weary, but his eyes were oddly bright. "We've been betrayed," he said. "No sooner had I Ansem the Wise in my grasp was I attacked by a horde of Nobodies and my capture stolen from me. I take it he has not been delivered to the castle."

“He has not, no,” said Xehanort. “I think we can assume he has been recovered by the Guardians of Light. As it happens, we are also missing two of our party who were supposed to be present and accounted for.”

Xemnas felt sweat prickling on the back of his neck. He should have anticipated this. There was no way word wouldn't have travelled back to Xehanort about his run-in with Marluxia. If this was the point he was to be harshly reprimanded for losing control of his own emotions and thus instigating a double defection, he really wished Xehanort wouldn't do it in front of Xigbar and Ansem. After all, Xehanort wasn't to know that Xemnas's actions weren't even the deciding blow. Larxene and Marluxia had always been treacherous. Hard to pin down in one place, overly ambitious; the type of people who would start a fire just to see how far they could fan the flames.

But then Xigbar raised a hand. “Demyx is gone.”

“Thank you for volunteering this information after the fact,” said Xehanort, as Xemnas discreetly recovered his composure. _Demyx_? That cowardly little mass of inanity? “When did you think you might report your bedwarmer’s disappearance?”

Xigbar laughed. “I didn’t think anything of it. Thought he might’ve just gone exploring and got lost or something. The kid hasn’t exactly got all his eggs in one basket, if you know what I mean.”

“The scientist is also missing,” said the boy.

And now they were all looking at Xemnas. They were his men, his responsibility. His mistake.

The old man hummed. “It's not an unsalvageable situation. The two of them were reserves and they were weak. But what concerns me is this. They may have had accomplices who have not yet mutinied; who will remain in the ranks until the last minute and flee, leaving me short in numbers when I need them. And now, with no one on the bench and the replica program gone...”

"There is also the issue of our enemy now having the ability to summon the lesser Nobodies," Ansem declared. Xemnas wanted to hit him. No doubt Ansem sensed this, because his lip started to curl before he remembered their present company. "Will I have to contend with them every time I leave the castle?"

"Xehanort's right, Vexen and Demyx were the weakest in the Organisation," said Xigbar. "As long as we're around, we'll be able to assume control of anything they try to use against us. Even Dem's Dancers."

"So I will have to get a Nobody to tag around with me wherever I go," said Ansem. "That doesn't sound like an efficient way to allocate resources."

"Hey, if you don't think you can handle a couple of Dusks by yourself-"

"Enough." Xehanort lifted his head off his hand and waved for them to be silent. He turned to Xemnas. "You are being unusually quiet."

"I do not believe there are any other accomplices," Xemnas began slowly. "Vexen would never collude with Marluxia and Larxene. They undermined and conspired to murder him in his previous life, his pride would never allow for it." That being said, he never envisaged a scenario where Vexen would willingly conscript _Demyx_ , someone he knew Vexen thought very poorly of. "And Luxord has always worked alone-"

“Aren't you missing the obvious?” Ansem interjected. “Who was it who brought on the scientist in the first place?”

“Saïx would not betray me,” Xemnas heard himself say immediately. “He is loyal.”

“Sounds like wishful thinking. You’re not exactly impartial, are you?”

“I am perfectly sure,” said Xemnas, thinking of Saïx sitting across from him with his little gift of tea, the light from the hearth illuminating his pale eyelashes. He felt his insides turn to ice.

Xehanort was frowning. "I think today's revelations have already proved you to be an exceptionally poor judge of character, Nobody."

He might as well have walked up and slapped Xemnas across the face. "I vouch for him," he said. "If my word means so little to you then discard it as you please, but I maintain that Saïx has nothing to do with this."

Beside him, Xigbar coughed awkwardly. Xemnas made himself hold Xehanort's gaze until the other finally sighed and dropped his head back onto his hand.

"It is too late to do anything about this now," he said. "We will proceed as planned. I want a closer eye kept on the replicas and on the Berserker - or indeed anyone who may have spent a considerable amount of time alone with that wretched scientist."

"Barely anyone, then," said Xigbar, scoffing. "He was a pain in the ass."

Back in his room, Xemnas stripped off his clothes and turned the shower valve to its hottest setting. His tooth hurt like the blazes and it was somehow the very least of his worries. He stepped in under the spray and turned his face up, letting the scalding water beat against his eyelids. Beating away all thoughts of blue-haired companionship. That dream wasn't just lost to circumstance now, it was corrupted right through to its core. How pathetic. Ansem was probably right. Maybe Saïx had never liked him at all; maybe he was just doing what he thought he had to, to climb the rungs of power in a castle where Xemnas's favour was the fastest route to the top.

He felt a familiar press into his headspace and pulled out of the stream to grab soap to wash himself. It wasn't long before there was a rush of cool air against his back as Ansem opened the door and slid into the cubicle behind him.

Far from snapping at him to leave, Xemnas shifted over the inch or two he could manage. With the shower clearly not designed to fit two fully grown men, there was no way to avoid touching.

"You look terrible," was Ansem's greeting. His mouth was right at Xemnas's ear. Reaching up, Xemnas fussed about with the nozzle in an attempt to appear aloof about the proximity of their naked bodies. His nerves, however, flared up like floodlights at the feel of wet skin on his wet skin. A slim, toned chest pressed against his back. Bony knees sliding up against the back of his knees. The intimate suggestion in the flesh he felt grow hard against the curve of his ass.

"I can't say you're looking your best." It wasn't the wittiest comeback he'd ever thought up, but at that moment it was hard to think at all. Ansem had leaned a hand on Xemnas's hip to reach round him for the shampoo. His thumb smoothed into the groove of the bone. He was even bold enough to press a kiss to Xemnas's shoulder, nosing aside a few soaking strands of silver hair.

It was mortifying, the way his body was responding. How much he craved the feel of hands on his skin. Especially when he was thinking about Saïx and yet here he was with Ansem, someone he didn't even know if he was particularly attracted to or not. After all, Saïx was the only other lover Xemnas had ever taken. His entire sex life reduced to one man. Zexion too had drawn his eye as the boy grew older, so he knew he had a 'type'. He liked smooth, pretty features. Teal hair and pale skin. Brilliant, quiet and obedient. 

Ansem had none of those things. He was none of those things. He was Xemnas's reflection in the mirror, just twisted somewhat. Like some cold hand had pinched all his features into sharper points.

"What is this stuff? It smells like cheap detergent." Ansem dumped a load of clear gel in his palm and dropped the bottle at their feet with a clatter. 

“It's standard shampoo," said Xemnas. "Speaking of which, when was the last time you washed?” He'd just noticed the dull colour of the water rinsing down the drain.

"Hm." Ansem combed his fingers through his long ribbons of hair, lathering them in foam. "The night we fucked, I believe."

“That is disgusting.”

Ansem laughed. “I'm sure it is.” A soapy hand meandered between Xemnas's legs. “Yes, this really looks like disgust.”

Slapping his hand away, Xemnas moved forward so they weren’t pressed chest to back any more. Of course, that just left him and his erection pressed uncomfortably against the cold, wet tiles. He turned around so they were face to face instead. "I do believe you had him fooled, by the way."

"What do you mean?"

"There is something you were not telling Xehanort. What really happened with Ansem the Wise?" Ansem would not lie about something as huge as the betrayal, so it had to be in the smaller details. "Did the Dusks really attack you, or did you make some foolish slip up you aren't prepared to admit to?"

Big foamy bubbles slid down Ansem's face and chest. "It's not important."

"Tell me."

Ansem sighed, his eyes slipping closed. "There _may_ have been children involved."

In this war, there usually was. Xemnas thought of Sora. Riku. Roxas and Naminé. "Did you lose a fight? Is that what you're telling me?"

"No, not really." He bowed his head under the stream to rinse, until his hair was plastered over his face in a sodden white veil. "I was bringing him to the Old Mansion for interrogation and some local brats intervened. Then your Dusks intervened and the whole situation got very obnoxious. So I decided to let him go."

Xemnas wasn't sure he heard that right. "You... decided to let him go."

"Yes. Pass the soap."

Silence fell. Ansem scrubbed himself down rigorously while Xemnas watched. He expected a further explanation to follow that astonishing admission, but it didn't come. Ansem didn't seem to think one was needed. Next thing, his hand, still coated in bubbles, wrapped around Xemnas's hard dick.

Though the pleasure that sparked from his touch was just what he needed, Xemnas caught hold of his wrist. "What were you thinking, Ansem? You were given one responsibility, _one responsibility_ , and you couldn't even be bothered-"

"You're right. I couldn't be bothered running around Twilight Town after a bunch of children and an old man, big surprise." Ansem's eyes narrowed. "Do you think it really matters at this point? Do you really think we're not going to end up at the same destination regardless? Quite frankly, I'd rather spend my last few days _not_ wasting my time, so if you're just going to nag and play hard to get again, then I could be doing with getting some sleep."

Xemnas felt dizzy. It was probably the heat. "Stay here tonight," he heard himself say.

Ansem continued to look at him, eyes still narrowed. "If that's what you want."

Gingerly, he pressed the point of his toothache. He'd forgotten Ansem was in the same boat with him. Carried along on the same current to the same sheer drop into the abyss. All of a sudden, he knew he wouldn't rather anyone else were with him right now. Not even Saïx.

"It's what I want." And he lowered himself to his knees to prove it.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

At first, he suspected Ansem was punishing him for his less than warm demeanour on the night they'd previously fucked. With Xemnas on his knees, the spray of the shower half-blinding him and his mouth open and willing to give pleasure, Ansem was gracious with him for the whole of ten seconds. Then his nails were digging into Xemnas's scalp, fingers entangled in sopping wet locks and his cock forced deep to the back of Xemnas's throat. Though he was struggling to breathe through the steam and the hard, blocky flesh in his mouth, Xemnas welcomed it all the same - engulfing and choking, sucking and tasting. The burn spread from his throat all the way down to his lungs. A good burn, the sort that reminded him he was still alive.

But when Ansem then pulled him out of the shower and moved them to the bed, his manner switched again just as quickly.

Though Xemnas had been expecting harsh hands and barely being prepared before he was fucked ruthlessly, and his body and mind were certainly pliant enough at this point to endure it, Ansem took his time to stretch Xemnas open. One finger made way for two, then three; slow and considerate and slicked with so much lube the slide came easy. Xemnas didn't know what to think. He didn't know where to look, but Ansem had him on his back, looming over him so Xemnas couldn't avoid seeing his face. Perhaps that was where his streak of cruelty lay. Forcing Xemnas to make eye contact as he was folded over himself like a piece of paper, his knees propped up over Ansem's shoulders.

Hips pressed tight against his ass and then Ansem was inside him, filling him. He'd been taken.

His cock throbbed, warmth spreading through his pelvis. He flexed his toes as his body easily accommodated the stretch, his heels digging into Ansem's back.

"You're enjoying this," Ansem murmured, his eyes so dilated they were black holes encircled in a tiny ring of gold. His face was flushed, his nipples hardened into little points. With his obvious excitement and the prior shower fellatio, Xemnas suspected they weren't in for a marathon of a session.

"Stop gasconading and get on with it."

"Stop what?"

A breathless laugh turned quickly into a moan as Ansem began to move. Thick, shallow thrusts that peeled him apart from the inside. Xemnas's head fell back against the pillow, his mouth hanging open, his wet hair clinging to his neck.

It was too good. How had he never done this before? How had Ansem not being giving this to him his whole life? Why was he only discovering this now, at the end? He writhed and cried out, clinging to Ansem so tight he had to be leaving blood bruises and torn, peeling skin everywhere. Pulling him closer, making him fuck _harder_ , move _faster_ -

Ansem shuddered and gasped and went limp against him. In a matter of minutes, really. Xemnas couldn't find it in himself to mock him, not when he then slid off and swallowed Xemnas down, his fingers pushing up inside to replace the girth he was missing. It was intimacy Xemnas had never let himself experience. Having Saïx as a lover was like having a little bluebird in a gilded cage; something pleasing and pretty he could put away once he was finished playing with it, without so much as a tiny feather left behind on his pillow. But he could feel Ansem all over and inside him. Like Ansem had spun a web out of all that straight silver hair and bound himself to Xemnas in the centre.

After, while they lay there catching their breath, Ansem said, "Your mouth is bleeding."

Xemnas nodded tiredly. Ansem said something else but he was already drifting off. Within seconds he was barely conscious of the weight of Ansem's arm slung over his waist, the heat of his hands. The taste of his tongue pushing between his lips...


End file.
